


didn't say no

by TheFandomEater



Series: Hamilton High School AU [2]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Polyamory, Rape Recovery, ham is a lil fucked up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-17 07:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5860570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFandomEater/pseuds/TheFandomEater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander’s freshman year had been incredibly stressful, to say the least.<br/>(little did he know what the summer had to offer)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eye of the Hurricane

**Author's Note:**

> And here it is! If I can direct your attention to that little "1/8"... The rest of the fic is all written! I'll try to update as regularly as I can.  
> Now, in the last fic I forgot to put this in the notes, but I have everyone's ages and grades charted out (including people not yet featured)  
> Alexander-A 2000 baby, 14 in the first fic and 15 in this, finished his freshman year  
> Laurens-1999 (less than 4 months older than ham), 15 in both, finished his sophomore year  
> Lafayette-2000 bab, 14 in both but! they're an accelerated asshole so just finished their sophomore year  
> Eliza-Same age and grade as Alex just a couple months younger  
> Hercules Mulligan- 15 then 16, just finished his sophomore year  
> Maria Reynolds-16, just finished her sophomore year (at home & online largely)  
> Thomas Jefferson-16, an asshole, just finished his sophomore year  
> Burr-(not in this fic but)15, literally a month younger than Alex, just finished his junior year and! is doing running start (college while in high school), something Alex plans on doing next school year

Alexander’s freshman year had been incredibly stressful, to say the least. That is, of course, _not_ to say that his life leading up to that year had been filled with serenity; on the contrary.

_He rolled off of his cot, getting out of a bed that wasn’t also occupied by his mother for the first time in his memory. His too-big trousers rolled up over his feet, his tread near-silent as he made his way to the living room._

_Shouting greeted him before he got to the door frame, “--I don’t care whether he’s my son or not, I don’t have the money or time to deal with him!”_

_“Do you think I do?” his mother cut in, “I_ make _time,_ because _he’s my son. If you can’t see that’s what needs to be done, then you’ll never be a father to him.”_

_The sound of a coat being pulled on, “Then I guess I do know what needs to be done.”, punctuated by the door slamming._

_His mother’s arms encircled him, “I knew you were there, chiquito.” In the same way he knows his father won’t be._

Or, two years later: _He’s back to sharing a bed with his mother, trying to cling to each other for warmth, their senses dulled to the point that they payed the sick surrounding them no mind._

_After what felt like years of tossing and turning and vomiting and coughing, his mother’s feverish heat grew cold._

_“Madre,” he croaks, using what little strength he doesn’t really have to turn and look at her._

_It takes hours for someone to remove her body, and Alex doesn’t have the energy to cling to her, or even to say goodbye, but he says it over and over in his mind, and prays to God and all his angels (Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, even Lucifer) that his mother will be safe and happy in whatever world she has entered._

“Alex?”

“Wh-hey, Eliza” he said, startled out of his thoughts by the girl who was currently sitting on the same couch as him, her face inches from his own.

“I’m here too buddy.” A voice, lower to the ground; he looked down to see John on the floor, leaning his back against the couch between Alex’s dangling legs.

He chuckled, “I knew that; I was more concerned with the person trying to exchange breath with me,” Eliza sat back, her face flushed, “It’s okay Betsy, I know you were just looking out for me.” he assured, taking hold of her hand. With her free one, she unpaused the movie they had been watching (Sharknado might not have been the _best_ choice). Alex threaded his unoccupied fingers through John’s curls, and if he held them both a little tighter when the obviously CGI tornado came on screen, neither of them mentioned it.

Once the movie had finished, Alex spoke, “It’s still early; wanna grab some coffee?” Both John and Eliza nodded, and they untangled themselves from each other until everyone was standing and holding hands, Alex in the middle as always.

Despite John’s insistence that he could drive them, Alex maintained that they would walk; and so they did, Eliza skipping along merrily at a pace that forced the others to join in (not that they wouldn’t have anyway). The site of three teenagers holding hands and skipping up to the door of their business was something the staff of the _Mon Amie_ bakery had grown accustomed to, ever since Lafayette had come in and declare the shop “Paris in New York,” and recommended it to all their friends. These three in particular visited it often, as Alex lived closest to it (and school, meaning the three of them often ended up at his house after class).

“ _Bonjour!_ How are you three today?” The man at the front counter greeted warmly.

.” _Nous sommes bien, merci!_ How are you, Bernard?” Alex asked, his French carrying some of the Puerto Rican accent that wasn’t as apparent in his English. He and Bernard conversed casually in a mix of French and English; Eliza occasionally joined in with her own more formal French, but John was not nearly awake enough to participate and instead waited patiently for Alex and Eliza to eventually get around to ordering; once they did, the trio settled at one of the tables to wait for their drinks. For once, the silence wasn’t filled by Alex’s rambling, as he sat in quiet ponderance.

While his freshman year couldn’t really compare to the hardships of his life in Puerto Rico ( _Wind and rain whip around him, and all he knows is his mother’s hand grasping his_ ), but moving to a new country, school, and house had presented challenges he was unaccustomed to, like registration, a new family, new friends, new customs—so much had changed from the little town he’d grown up in. Then there was the winter, experiencing real cold for the first time (and subsequently almost dying); spring brought standardized testing, something he’d never been exposed to as he was largely self-taught.

Still, through the help of his friends (John and Eliza in particular, who he’d grown quite close to; which posed some challenges, as John was a sophomore while he and Eliza were freshmen, but Alex actually ended up having a class with John and no classes with Eliza. They worked it out.), he made it to the summer, and now, here they were. _Together_. The word still gave him no small amount of pleasure, whether spoken or thought. It had been only a week prior that he had stumbled over his words (which, to John and Eliza’s knowledge, was as rare as Alex actually taking a break from work if asked), trying to express just how close he felt to his two friends, but they had understood, and now he could never understand how someone could think a relationship like theirs was unholy; being with them was the closest he had ever felt to holiness.

“—our coffee, Alex.” Again, his internal monologue was cut short by one of his partners. This time it was John, nudging a coffee cup against his arm. “Ham, what’s up with you today?”

He accepted the coffee with his trademark cheeky grin, “Nothing, my dear Laurens; I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Eliza asked before taking a sip of her peppermint mocha (not even the 80° heat could keep her from that drink).

He winked at her over his cup, “About you.”

“Booo!” John jeered. Alex leaned over and kissed his cheek.

“Both of you, dumbass. Just… How lucky I am to have you two in my life.”


	2. In Walks Maria Reynolds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for non-graphic description of drugging and rape, as well as frank discussions of consent

While he was a loud and energetic person, Alex had never been the biggest fan of parties. His partners, however, loved them, and that’s how he ended up nursing a drink in the corner of a party hosted by none other than Thomas Jefferson.

He set down his drink, meaning to find John and Eliza and ask to go home, but as he stood he bumped into a girl running in the opposite direction.

“Excuse me—Are you alright?” he asked, seeing her tear-smudged mascara and frenzied appearance.

“Yeah, yeah. Just my boyfriend, ya’know. Bein’ a dick as usual.” He guided her to sit on the staircase where he’d been and then sat on the opposite side of her. “Oh, I’m sorry—I’m Maria.”

“Alexander, but most people call me Alex. Nice to meet you.” He responded, offering a hand which she shook faintly. They got to talking about nothing in particular (or really, Alex got to talking, as Maria watched him with more and more enthusiasm).

Once he took a break from his lengthy spiel on the dangers of Nike-brand consumerism, spurred on by one of the party-goer’s Air Jordans, Maria offered his forgotten drink to him. “Here: after all that you must be thirsty.” He took it gratefully, downing half of the beer before launching right back into it.

As he traversed from topic to topic he felt his mouth grow heavy; his words slurred as his vision blurred.

“I… I don’ feel righ’,” he managed, and Maria immediately began leading him to a bedroom down the hall.

He falls onto the bed, and she falls with him. “You won’ believe me, but I’m doin’ this for your own good…” And his memory goes black.

* * *

 

“Alright, lovebirds, wakey wake—Oh. Hamilton.” Alex rubbed at his eyes. Had he really fallen asleep at Jefferson’s? And what did he mean, “lovebirds”?

There was rustling under the sheets, then Maria sat up. Thoughts of what must have happened ran through Alex’s head at a mile a minute.

“Did we—did you? Agh, my head,” He cut off his own line of questioning, massaging his temples.

“Looks like someone had a drink too many.” Thomas suggested with no small hint of pleasure at Alex’s discomfort. Maria laughed nervously.

Alex shook his head, confused, “No; I only had one beer last night, and I don’t even think I finished it. Besides, I don’t get headaches when I’m hungover.” As he was talking, Maria extricated herself from the bed. “Wait, Maria; did we,” paused, and lowered his voice, “did we have sex?”

“Yes.” She said abruptly, before pushing past Thomas and leaving the room.

After looking at Alex with what might have been pity—or, more likely, morbid curiosity—Thomas spoke up, “ You should probably do that too. Leaving.” Alex nodded slowly, getting up shakily and almost falling over trying to get his shoes back on (he left them untied). As he exited, he brushed up against Thomas, who was shocked to notice Hamilton shivering violently despite the summer heat. Perhaps, if he’d been without bias against the other teen, he would have stopped him, asked if he was alright; instead, he let him file by, making mental note of what had happened this morning.

Alex stumbled into his home, tripping over a stray shoe and landing with a cry of frustration on the carpeted entryway floor.

“Alex?” called a familiarly deep voice from upstairs. “Alex, are you alright?” Hearing no response, Washington rushed down the stairs to see his ward struggling to his feet near the foot of them. He helped the boy up and noticed tear tracks over his reddened face. Washington’s voice was soft when he next spoke, but not without some urgency. “What happened, son?”

Alex clung to his foster father in a way both were unfamiliar with, Alex leaning on the man as he admitted angrily, “I don’t know!” His voice broke as he tried to hold back tears, his hair tangled, his clothes ruffled, and his face puffy from the tears he’d already shed on his haphazard drive home.

Mr. Washington gently lead him into the living room, and guided him into a chair before taking a seat of his own. Alex worked on his breathing for some time, Washington waiting patiently beside him, but, when he spoke again, his voice was still uneven. “I was at a party w-with John and Betsy, but I was just sitting in the corner; I was gonna leave, I  _ swear _ I was gonna leave, but I bumped into this girl, and after making conversation I started feeling real unsteady and she took me into the bedroom—” he choked on the last word, tears streaming freely, “And I’m sure I’d only had  _ one drink _ , but I woke up this morning in… In—”

“In bed with her?” Washington suggested, and Alex nodded, looking down into his lap to avoid his gaze. “Son, at any time, did someone else grab your drink, or did you leave it unattended?” Again, Alex nodded, but this time he managed to meet his eyes, confused as to what the man was suggesting, and why he didn’t seem angry. “There is the possibility that you were drugged.” The boy gaped at him before leaping out of his chair.

“No. No, that did not ha—” Washington cut him off as he started pacing,

“Even if you weren’t drug—”

“I _wasn’t_.”

“...Even if you weren’t, if you were otherwise inhibited to the point that you don’t remember anything occurring, then that calls into question your ability to consent.” As he said this, Washington got up and put a hand on Alex’s shoulder, effectively ceasing his pacing.

Alex tilted his hand towards Washington, “What do you mean?” Bow it was Washington’s turn to look confused, if only for a brief moment; realization dawned on his face.

“Alex, if someone is severely intoxicated, they can’t consent to sex, making any sexual acts done to them rape.” Alex backed into the chair, falling into it roughly. Washington remained close but silent, allowing him time to process but making sure he stay safe and relatively calm. They stayed for some time; Washington slowly sat in his chair. It took until Alex’s breaths matched his foster father’s before he spoke again, and when he did, it was with no small amount of trepidation.

“You mean...I didn’t cheat?”   


“No, son,” he placed a hand on Alex’s knee, “You didn’t do a thing wrong.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at me! updating at a reasonable time! yeah! in a more serious note, this chapter and on deal with rape and its aftermath; I'll put warnings before particularly dark chapters but know that there's nothing graphic.


	3. The World Turned Upside Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for nondescript talk of hospitals and for some lovely lovely victim blaming

After their conversation, Washington took Alex to the hospital (this time without any of the high schooler’s typical complaining from when he was taken in for his monthly asthma check-ups) to make sure there wouldn’t be any lasting effects if Alex was drugged,

“And you’ll need to get tested for STIs.”, Washington said in a low voice in the waiting room, conscious of how sensitive the matter was. Alex responded by sinking lower in the uncomfortable waiting-room chair, as if by sinking low enough he would drop through the floor and be embraced by Satan himself. He knew that getting tested was the next logical step after ~~cheating~~  being assaulted, yet he couldn’t help but feel...dirty at the thought that he could have caught something. _I’d never thought I could… the only people I was ever gonna be with were John and Eliza. None of us had ever…_

“Alexander Hamilton?”, a nurse called, but he didn’t stand. His foster father grabbed his hand, and after a few moments of measured breathing, they stood together and walked to the doctor’s office. Once there, the nurse gestured to the gown laid out on the examination table, “You can have your father leave the room while you change—”

“Oh, I’m not his—”

“He can stay.” Alex interrupted, his voice quiet but determined. The nurse exited without comment. Washington turned away from the boy as he undressed.

After a moment, “You can turn around now.” He was in the green hospital gown, seated on the table in wait. Neither attempted to make conversation, so the silence was only broken by the doctor entering the room.

The doctor was male, short, and entirely not who Alex was expecting.

“Where’s Doctor Andrews?”

Ever since his big asthma attack last November, the doctor who had treated it had become his specialist, and had been there for every one of his check-ups (even though it’d been less than a year, that number was already larger than he could keep track of, and just thinking of how much he must be costing the Washington’s in medical expenses alone sent cool guilt trickling down his spine…)

“We had thought it… more appropriate for you to have a male doctor, considering the circumstances.” Alex bristled at this; it’s not as if seeing a woman would send him into hysterics, and there definitely was _not_ a part of him that was immensely grateful for this consideration. Still, what the doctor had said made him curious.

“And what, exactly, do you know of my circumstances?” Washington shot him a disapproving look, and even he had to admit that his rude tone was not completely justified.

The older doctor was not playing any games; still, when he spoke, there was no animosity, and his words still carried the softness of someone accustomed to dealing with younger or more fragile patients.

“A female drugged you, and had sex with you without your consent,” Alex looked down at his lap, his indignation forgotten in the shame of the situation, “Now, I would like to start with a quick physical exam before your blood is drawn.”

* * *

 

Alexander wasn’t answering his phone. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence; he would often spend hours locked away in his room, pouring over whatever work he’d invented for himself, but it had been almost a day since the party they had planned on leaving _together_ with no response.

 

Group Text: HercTheJerk, Lafayette, JLaurens, ElizaSky

ElizaSky: Have any of you talked with Alex?

Lafayette: Not since the party, no. Why

JLaurens: he won’t respond to any of our calls or texts

ElizaSky: We just want to know that he got home safely

HercTheJerk: well

HercTheJerk: you could always ask Jefferson

ElizaSky: …

ElizaSky: I think we will

JLaurens: wanna Facetime him together?

* * *

 

Rohypnol. Alex had been drugged with a low dose of one of the most common roofies; he would be fine as long as he stayed hydrated. As for his other tests, the results for STIs came back clean, but he would need to wait four weeks before the HIV test. The thought that this could have saddled him with a lifelong illness chilled him to the bone, and he sat in silence on the drive back to the house.

As they were pulling into the driveway, he looked with growing apprehension at his phone, knowing he would have to explain what had happened to his partners. Once inside, he finally turned it on.

32 new messages

He groaned internally. Forgoing reading through all of them, he skipped down to Eliza’s last message and nearly dropped his phone.

ElizaSky: We know what you did

ElizaSky: How could you?

His breath was shallow as he checked John’s texts, the edges of his phone digging painfully into his palm.

JLaurens: why the fuck would you sleep with her

JLaurens: your flowery-worded bullshit isnt gonna save you this time

His phone slipped out of his hands as a choked sob escaped his mouth.

“Alex? Alex! What’s wrong?” Washington was in front of him, holding his hands and guiding him to sit down.

Alex got out what he could through his hiccupping sobs, “John and Eli-za know a-and they h-hate me!” Washington wrapped Alex in his arms at this, rocking him gently in a way that reminded Alex too much of _winds rocking the house back and forth, rain pelting from all directions, yet all he could hear was his mother’s voice from somewhere he couldn’t see, but which seemed to be getting closer and closer. Then_ —

A knock on the door.

“Y-you should probably get that.” he whispered as a second knock rang out.

* * *

 

“Hey Jefferson,” John had started, Eliza beside him on the couch as they had stared at the small version of him on John’s phone, “We were wondering if you know what happened to Alex after your party? No one’s heard from him, and we’re getting a little worried.”

“Well… That may have to do with him waking up in bed with Maria Reynolds—” Thomas was cut off by the phone being slammed onto the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Muffled screaming?


	4. Quiet, For Just A Moment

Washington opened the door, a rare show of true anger slipping through his usually calm facade. “Ah: Lafayette. Care to explain why Alex is being harassed?”

The exchange student looked agast, “ _Monsieur_ , I don’t know what you mean; I came to check on Alexander, as I haven’t heard from him since the party. Who is harassing him?”, their accent was thick in their worry, and they craned their head almost instinctively to look for Alex inside. George’s expression softened and he relaxed his confrontational stance. He had always favored Lafayette (the only reason they weren’t being hosted at the Washington’s this year was Alex’s need for the pair’s full attention; however, George had wondered more than once if Alex would have been benefited by sharing a room with his fast-made French-speaking friend).

“I can tell you’re worried. Alex is here with me; he’s safe, but I can’t tell you more than that. It’s not my place.” While Washington’s intention had been to placate the teen, his inability to elaborate made them even more upset.

“Is he okay?”, they said, no longer hiding that they were looking behind his shoulder to catch a glimpse of their friend. “Tell me nothing has happened to _mon petit lion_.”

“I’m sorry, I really can’t say anything else. Alex will tell you when he’s ready, but for now I think it would be best if you headed home.”

“But—”

“Go. Home.” He guided the teen away with a gentle hand before shutting the door and locking it pointedly. He turned to see Alex standing almost directly behind him. Alex closed the distance in one step, roughly wrapping his arms around the older man. Washington reciprocated in seconds, letting Alex lean into him and breathe deeply in tandem with the rise and fall of his own chest, and Alex let himself be wrapped in comfortable silence.

“Thank you,” he began, voice muffled in the shoulder of Washington’s sweater, “Thank you for not telling them. I don’t-I don’t know how Laf would react and ri-right now I really can’t take that kind of uncertainty.” He broke the embrace before Washington could respond, wiping tears and snot from his face with the back of his sleeve. For once, George didn’t have a pre-prepared Responsible Parent Speech, and he was forced to watch in silence as Alex pieced himself together and made his way upstairs, his phone lying mockingly on the floor.

* * *

 

“ _Hercules_ , wake up!”

“Lafayette—what are you doing in my house at ass o’clock in the morning?”

“Well,” they started, pushing Mulligan’s bedroom door open wider (no small a feat, considering the mountainous pile of clothing coating the older teen’s floor), “ _Premier,_ _mon ami_ , it is two in the afternoon; second, it is to do with our dear _petit lion_ and it is of the utmost importance.”

Mulligan was out of bed as soon as he heard the nickname. He pulled on pants and a debatably clean shirt, unashamed of his near-nakedness in front of his close friend.

“So do you know what’s going on with him?”

“No,” the teen said, flashing a determined grin and grabbing Mulligan’s hand, “That’s what we’re going to find out. Put on your detective cap, _mon ami_ , and let us unravel this great mystery!”

“I am pretty sure any time of day is too early for this shit Laf.”

Still, the pair could be seen exiting the house, the older being dragged grudgingly by the excitable French teen.

Lafayette checked their phone from time to time, hoping for something more than Eliza’s dry “Ask Alexander” in response to their questioning, or Alex and John’s silence to the same.

They voiced this dilemma to Mulligan.

“Well, John n’ Liza said they were gonna talk with Thomas before things went to shit, so maybe we should start there.”

The look in Laf’s eyes made Mulligan genuinely concerned that he would be kissed, “Hercules Mulligan, you tall dark genius; Tom’s house is on the way to mine so we can drop in and hear what he told _les deux amants_.

* * *

 

“I’m not surprised John and Elizabeth are upset; I told them that their dearest Alexander woke up in bed with one Maria Reynolds.”

Both of their mouths dropped open in shock, but Lafayette recovered quickly and folded their arms.

“I can tell you left something out, _ma ch_ _è_ _re petite merde._ ”

Thomas bristled, “I didn’t leave it _out_ , they just hung up before I finished.” His indignation was not with a quirked eyebrow and an expectant stare. “Fine. Hamilton seemed. Out of it when he woke up. He didn’t remember sleeping with Maria though she clearly did… If I had to guess, I’d say he was roofied.”

“ _Mon dieu._ ” Lafayette was knocked back with shock, and Thomas mentally cursed his lack of tact. They stood in stunned silence for what felt like eons.

“Well,” Mulligan broke in, voice wavering in barely contained rage, “Looks like we’ll be paying a visit to a Miss Reynolds this evening.”

“Yes, we will Hercules, but I believe there is the more pressing matter of informing John and Eliza that the man they’ve been harassing over cheating on them was actually raped.” Lafayette spat out, and without so much as a goodbye to their friend, they pulled Mulligan with them out the door.

“I may have fucked up a little bit.” Thomas said to the empty room. The walls creaked in response, as if to say, “you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't let this fic fool you i despise thomas jefferson with a passion
> 
> French translations:  
> Premier: first  
> les deux amants: the two lovers  
> ma chère petite merde: my dearest little shit


	5. Write Their Way Out

Group Text: ElizaSky, JLaurens, HercTheJerk, Lafayette

Lafayette: Alex did not cheat on you

JLaurens: what do you mean

ElizaSky: Jefferson said he was in bed with Maria

ElizaSky: I texted her and she said it was true

HercTheJerk: she drugged him

HercTheJerk: it wasn’t consensual

JLaurens: fuck

ElizaSky: oh god

“Oh God, oh God, what did we do?”

At her sister’s mutterings, Angelica poked her head through the door adjoining their bedrooms. “Eliza? What’s goin’ on?” Eliza turned and she saw tears in her sister’s eyes. “Oh, Bunny; what’s wrong?”

As Eliza prepared to answer, Angelica sat on the bed beside her and reached out a hand which Eliza took gratefully.

“John and I, we-we’d thought Alex had cheated on us, but he was r-r- _ raped _ . We were so  _ horrible _ to him—” she was cut off by her sister’s warm arms around her. 

“It’s okay Bunny, it’s okay. You’re going to apologize to him but—look at me,” Eliza’s face had fallen at the thought of the apology, but she turned to look at her sister, “You are  _ not _ a bad person. You just made a mistake, and now you’re going to fix it.”

She wiped the tears from her face, and when she broke the embrace and turned to look at Angelica again, her eyes were filled with determination. “I’m going to fix this.”

* * *

 

As soon as he responded to the group chat, John was texting Alex as if each word was the breath going in and out of his body.

JLaurens: Alex I’m so sorry

JLaurens: I didn’t know what happened

JLaurens: it wasn’t you fault

JLaurens: I love you

JLaurens: damnit, I’m probably overwhelming you

JLaurens: I’ll shut up but

JLaurens: I hope you can forgive me

* * *

 

When Angelica had told her sister she need to apologize, her hand-writing a five-page letter on how she and John were wrong and that Alex was not at fault was not exactly what she’d had in mind, but then again, Eliza was never one to follow expectations.

“Should we send something to Alex? Let him know what we know?” Mulligan asked, anxious for a way to help his hurting friend.

“There is no doubt that John and Eliza will be flooding him with messages already. No; I believe he will be best served by us getting him  _ justice _ .” Lafayette decided.

“Alright,” Mulligan agreed, “let’s find Ms. Reynolds.”

* * *

 

Eliza finished the letter at six o’clock, but now she was faced with the dilemma of how to actually deliver it. Something told her that the Washington household would be none too kind if she were to show up with it, but mailing it would take days, and she wanted the situation remedied as quickly as possible.

Eventually, she decided to scan the pages and sent them over text.

After an hour with no response, she started second-guessing the letter.

After two hours, she told him how stupid she was for thinking some chicken scratch would fix things.

After three hours, she went to bed early.

John doesn’t fall asleep until three a.m., his phone still warm in his hand.

* * *

 

Group Text: AdotHam, JLaurens, ElizaSky

AdotHam: I forgive you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! A happy ending!... Or is it?????? (i am evil)  
> now please fill the hole where my heart used to be with baseless praise (jk) (nothing can fill that hole anyway :)


	6. And so the Balance Shifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: nondescript talk of abusive relationships, mildly descriptive talk of miscarriage

AdotHam: I forgive you, but

AdotHam: I want to deal with this by myself, with people I know won’t react badly

AdotHam: I love you both.

* * *

 

Lafayette had spent the night at Mulligan’s, formulating a plan of attack for “Project Reynolds” well past midnight (Mulligan was throwing pillows at them by four, begging the exchange student to shut up and _go to sleep_ ). At a more reasonable hour of morning, Lafayette cooked their battle breakfast: perfectly round, airy pancakes drowned in buttery syrup paired with slightly burnt microwave sausage. Mulligan, nose tickled by the food, roused himself to eat. The pair chatted excitedly between mouthfuls,

“I think we need…” Lafayette trailed off, gnawing thoughtfully on the burnt ‘meat’ before snapping their fingers dramatically, “Ah! _Disguises!_ ”

Like a fire was lit under him, Mulligan lept up, grinning like a madman as he ran to his closet. He came back toting a pile of clothes.

“Courtesy of the son of a tailor: Mr. Holmes,” One of the bundles in his hands unfurled into a long trench-coat and a hunting cap, “and Dr. Watson.” Another trench-coat, this time accompanied by a black bowler hat. Lafayette nabbed the first trench-coat, twirling it around like they’d tried on hundreds of wedding dresses but finally found the _one_.

“Come along, _Was_ _ón!_ ” they said giddily, picking up the bowler hat and placing it lop-sidedly on their friend’s head.

Despite their overwhelming optimism (or, perhaps, because of it), the two soon discovered that they had no idea where Maria lived, or how to get there, or if she would be there when they did. For all of Lafayette’s detailed rambling, somehow none of these things had come to mind. Lifting themselves from where they had plopped upon discovering this oversight, Lafayette looked through their phone to weed her address out of their friends.

Jefferson didn’t pick up, and Mulligan started banging his head against the table, bowler hat forgotten behind him.

Angelica suggested Eliza might know, and relaying this information to Mulligan had the hat firmly back on his head. Within minutes, the address was acquired and the detective duo were on their way.

Before the drive was over, Mulligan lost the hat again; his asking “Why didn’t we just call Maria?” earning a solid slap to the back of his head by an increasingly frustrated frenchman.

All their patience gone once their foot hit Maria’s porch, Laf knocked roughly on the door which opened in seconds.

“Why did you rape Alexander Hamilton?” was out of their mouth before the person behind the door was even revealed, and they held in a gasp once she was: Maria Reynolds looked to have just survived a hurricane. Her hair was frizzed around her, matching the dark brown frenzy of her eyes. They were framed by a deep purple sea of bags almost the same shade as the bruising barely covered by her loose-hanging shirt.

Mulligan belatedly grabbed the Lafayette’s arm to prevent them from providing the small gust of wind that would surely blow the waif before them over; no such luck. The already disheveled girl crumpled in on her herself, tears falling in the stains on her cheeks. While Mulligan was visibly sympathetic, this display only served to rile up the other hot-blooded youth.

“Stop crying! Tears and apologies are wasted on us! _Get up!_ We want explanation!” They spat, their tone more impatient than angry. Lafayette was usually the bleeding heart of the group (not that they could compete with Alexander If-I-stepped-on-a-bug-I’d-write-it-a-moving-eulogy Hamilton), but the youngest was fiercely protective of their friends and that force could bubble over at the the turn of a dime; their outburst was merely water spitting at the flame, a show of how dangerous they could be.

Instead of falling further into hysterics, Maria collected herself and meekly showed them both inside. Mulligan took a seat on the tattered couch while Lafayette paced behind it.

“Maria,” Mulligan began, his voice soft but not kind, “we know you drugged Alex and had sex with him, but we can tell that someone’s been hurtin’ you too,” Laf scoffed, but they’d seen the bruises as well as he had and could fill in the blanks. Mulligan shushed them; inside he was itching for a fight just as much as Laf was, but he knew that bullying an abuse victim wouldn’t get any results besides a stone of guilt heavy in his gut. “So we need you to explain your side of the story.”

Her chest rose and fell four slow time before she spoke. “I’m sure ya’ll know that I was out of school for a couple months,” they both nodded, “I was pregnant. My boyfriend was...not a nice man, even then, but once he knocked me up he manned up n’ bought me a ring.” Her face was almost wistful, but the other teens were haggard by this tale and how they knew it ended. “He was real sweet while I was pregnant, dotin’ over me, takin’ time off school, but then—” she broke off in a choked sob. Mulligan offered a hand; Lafayette ceased their pacing, sitting, their face a cocktail of sympathy and dread.

“But then,” Maria continued, a thin thread of determination in her voice, “I went into labor, and lil’ Rosie came out with her umbilical cord around her neck. I was only fifteen, so I’d known she might not make it, but I’d taken all the vitamins, gone to all the classes—I’m sure ya’ll don’t wanna hear this, sorry.

“I didn’t take it too well; I wasn’t eatin’, couldn’t sleep, and James had to put up with it all. I ended up back in the hospital cause I fainted an’ he’d had enough; he smacked me upside the head n’ told me to eat so he could go to class n’ work without worryin’ about me keelin’ over.” Lafayette took Mulligan’s still outstretched hand, gripping it tightly.

“I’m sure y’all can guess where it went from there, but I’ll tell you how this is connected to Alex. See, that second hospital visit was right after James’d been turned down for a big scholarship; the next day he’d overheard Alex talkin’ ‘bout that same scholarship, sayin’ the college had offered it to him even though he was still a freshman. James didn’t like that too much, decided Alex needed a lesson,” the two friends flinched, knowing exactly what lesson he had received, “but I told him I’d do it—partly to get on his good side, I ain’t gon’ lie, I’d do about anything to avoid a beating—but also cause I knew where to get some roofies, an’ I figured if I could use that then it wouldn’t be as bad. It hurts somethin’ awful when you’re awake, at least with James.”

The implication of her closing statement chilled them both to the core. When Mulligan spoke, his voice was rough with emotion. “Where is James now?”

If Maria could shrink any more than her already small frame allowed, she certainly tried to. “That’s the thing; the day I went to that party he left, an’ I haven’t seen him since.” She was again met with a stunned silence, though this time Lafayette cleared it, the impatience gone from their voice but still not entirely gentle.

“I believe you, and I know how difficult it must have been to share this. I have no doubt that you thought you were sparing Alex from pain, but—” Lafayette took in a shaky breath, “but Alex is still in pain, and your actions are still the cause.” With that, they got up and made to the front door. Mulligan exchanged a parting glance and a small “Thank you” before he too left the house.

“ _Merde_.” Lafayette exclaimed softly, and Mulligan let out a dark chuckle.

“You said it, buddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for this being late! i'm in the scottish play at my school and opening night was yesterday so the last week has been pretty hectic, but now theres two chapters to go! I already have the ideas for the next two fics in the series (a one-shot and then another multi-chapter), one of which will probably be published by the end of the month.


	7. He is Going Through the Unimaginable

Alex hadn’t felt this much in years. At least, he hadn’t felt things he couldn’t explain, couldn’t write his way away from. After the hurricane  _ howling winds bodies everywhere where’s mom oh wait _ he had  _ felt so much _ , but he wrote it down, transferred his pain into metaphor imagery. Now he didn’t, couldn’t, couldn’t find any words to make this violation readable, this gnawing guilt bearable. Every time he put his pen to paper it was as if he was being used again, as if he was using himself and his own suffering again.

He hadn’t slept that night, all too aware of his friends, his lovers ~~that he cheated on that should be disgusted~~ offering their help, offering to talk, begging for forgiveness as if he wasn’t the one who needed it. He didn’t want to  _ talk _ ; the only thing that passed his lips all night and all day were Hail Marys with his mother’s rosary until his mouth felt used. He was confronted with the thought that maybe his mouth  _ had _ been used, and he threw up around an  _ Amen _ .

He took a shower and pretended it was his baptism, tried to rid himself of the guilt clinging to his skin,  _ Oh God let me have some of your holiness; oh God will you not smite me down if I have sinned, if I am unforgivable _ . His skin was raw once he stepped out.

The rational part of Alex’s brain told him that it wasn’t his fault; it’s not like he didn’t think men could be raped (he’d seen it in his home town, the youngest member of a gang gets “initiated”) , or that women aren’t strong enough or have the right… parts to rape, it was just. Different, when it happened to him. If he hadn’t left his drink unattended, if he hadn’t been drinking in the first place, if he’d pushed her off—if he’d been better, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he could stop imagining her on top of him but not knowing if that’s what happened, if that’s all that happened.

The uncertainty might be the worst thing, because there aren’t any unknowns in Alex’s life, and if there are, he reads and he researches and he  _ makes _ them know.

He pushed his head into his pillow as if he could drown in it, could quiet the howling winds in his head for just a second.

“Alex?” Washington’s voice sent him scrambling to attention, his mind still in the protective mode of his past. A soft wrap of knuckles on his bedroom door and he opened it to see Washington’s stoic face with an undercurrent of paternal worry running through its few creases.

“Do you want to watch a movie? Get out of your room for a bit, maybe eat something?” George asked, and Alex nodded, heading downstairs behind his foster father. While Washington made breakfast, despite it being well past noon (Alex hadn’t eaten at all that day and he could feel hunger crawling up his throat to try and taste the bacon sizzling on the stove) ,Alex searched half-heartedly through the small collection of DVDs they had before stumbling on one that was still unopened: a pack of the Harry Potter movies.

_ “What do you mean you’ve never seen Harry Potter?” John exclaimed, and everyone in the group turned to stare at them from their various positions on the grass field, causing Alex to blush heavily. _

_ “We didn’t really have the money for a-a movie player, and there wasn’t a theatre in the neighborhood.” John looked down, embarrassed at his insensitive question, and Alex couldn’t have that. “But! The library had one or two of the books and they were really good!” He smiled extra wide to show John that it was alright, and John matched his smile just as brightly. _

_ That first Christmas, Alex got a different Harry Potter book from each of his friends, and John and Eliza got him the set of all eight movies “To watch with us any time ツ !” _

Tears pooled in Alex’s eyes as he was reminded of the relationship he’d ruined  _ (John and Eliza forgave you it's alright they love you) _ and he pushed aside the stack of movies, choosing one of the others at random. Washington walked into the room just as Alex put the disc in the player, and the boy scrambled to hit and wipe his tears at the same time.

“I’ve got bacon, French toast, and orange juice; I figure Martha won’t get mad about no fruit if we have the juice.”

Alex took the plate offered to him gratefully before throwing a weak joke back, “Actually, this juice is basically just sugar water, but I won’t tell if you don’t.” George chuckled at that before digging in. The opening credits started and Alex realized that he had no idea what movie he’d put in. Instead of saying as much when Washington asked, he indignantly maintained, “It’s a surprise,” until the title popped up and Alex blushingly pretended he knew what the movie was about.

Once they’d finished eating (and Alex learned that he’d picked a bird documentary, which could have been worse) Washington lowered the volume and turned to face Alex, a motion that always filled Alex with dread (the first time Washington pulled this move of “watching a movie” only to have a serious discussion was when he told Alex that he couldn’t be placed in Sophomore year)

“Alex,” he started gently as Alex calculated the force necessary to catapult himself through the window, “I would like to give you more time to adjust and deal with what happened, but unfortunately… I need to know whether you want to press charges.”

Alex’s blood went cold, he fiddled with his fingers in his lap and croaked, “Why?”

Washington sighed, “I’m not just your foster father; I’m your school teacher, and I am required by law to report this,” Alex sucked in a breath and Washington pushed on, placating, “ _ but _ , I am willing to ignore that if you decide pressing charges would not be in your best interest. I realize this is a difficult decision, so—”

For once in his life, Alex didn’t have a response—which didn’t matter, as he was currently trying to suck in breaths that got shallower and shallower as the walls bore down on him. He could hear his blood rushing through his ears but all he could think was  _ water rushing overhead and all around I need something to hold on to or I’ll drown. There’s a hand reaching toward me; will they pull me up or down? _

He took the hand despite this and they pulled him to shore but he still couldn’t breathe, there must have been saltwater in his lungs or his asthma was acting up but the voice connected to the arm told him to cough and he does, then it put something  _ (my inhaler)  _ in his hand and he took as deep of a breath in as he could and it was Washington’s voice counting down from ten as he held in the medicine, Washington’s hand holding his as they sat on the couch, no water in sight.

“That… that w-wasn’t an asthma attack.” He breathed out (and wasn’t that amazing, breathing out and still getting air back in).

Washington nodded, before realizing that Alex’s eyes were focussed on where their hands were still clasped together. “No, it wasn’t, but you were working yourself up to one and I figured going through the motions would help you feel like you could breathe.” Alex wanted to shower Washington in complements because  _ yes that’s exactly what happened thank you so much _ but he was stilled too focussed on pushing air in and out of his lungs and reminding himself that he was on solid ground.

They sat in a heavy silence as Alex collected himself and Washington tried to prepare himself for any questions the inquisitive boy would have.

Too tired for his typical long-winded queries, Alex asked, “If that wasn’t an asthma attack, what was it? And how did you know what to do?”

“Well, it looked like a panic attack, and—” 

“What’s a panic attack?” He still had enough energy to interrupt any of Washington’s statements.

“A bout of intense fear, usually with physical symptoms like tightness or pain of the chest, increased heart rate, and shortness of breath.” Washington rattled off in the voice that made it sound as if he was reciting a speech. “Now—if you’ll let me finish, Alex,” the boy in question closed his mouth and put down the hand he’d extended to begin gesticulated, “I knew what to do because, as a foster parent and a school teacher, I’ve gone through mental health training as well as physical. Because of that training, I can recommend the best treatment for you, and because I’m your guardian, you have to listen: go to your room and sleep, Alexander.” His voice warmed as he went on, but the end was no less of an order for it, and Alex obeyed readily. The prospect of sleeping off the residual anxiety clinging to his chest was one he all too happily embraced, and he slowly made his way upstairs.

The attack combined with his lack of sleep had Alex dragging his feet by the time he got to the bedroom, but when he laid down he found that he couldn’t sleep, the weight og his impending decision settled uncomfortably on his ribs. Restless, he decided to check his phone. His anxiety only worsened when he saw multiple texts and missed calls from Lafayette and Mulligan.

Forgoing reading any of the messages, Alex called Lafayette and started pacing his bedroom floor, trying to distract himself from the thousands of thoughts of what emergency must have happened, the ways in which one of his friends could have gotten hurt—

“‘Ello?”

“Lafayette! Thank God, are you okay? What’s going on? Are John and Eliza alright? Is Mulligan with you? Or—”

“ _ Mon dieu, mon petit lion _ ; it is  _ good  _ news! Everyone is alright, there is no emergency.” With how frazzled Alex sounded, Lafayette couldn’t help but feel guilty for their excitement; they knew how Alex worried about his friends but they and Mulligan were anxious to share the news.

Lafayette could hear Alex taking calming breaths on the other side, “Okay. Why’d you call me so many times? What’s going on?” They relayed the information in a rush, Mulligan butting in on occasion to set the record straight. Once the story was finished, they waited for a response.

“Alex?” They called worriedly when all they’d heard for the past minute was quickening breathing.

“I-I gotta go.”  _ My fault my fault it wasn’t even a big deal my fault my fault she was being nice my fault my fault it wasn’t even real rape it was just my fault my fault _

Group Text: JLaurens, ElizaSky, AdotHam

AdotHam: I need your help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being late (again) the show just finished up, but to make up for it, have the reasoning behind everyone's text names  
> AdotHam: the obvious reasons, but also that a.ham wasn't allowed as his twitter domain and hes salty af  
> HerctheJerk: from when lafayette had been trying to insult him, but couldn't remember any swear words in english, so instead called him a jerk as if it was the worst word in all creation  
> Lafayette: lafayette's phone interface is entirely in english: they're trying their best  
> JLaurens: practical (alex stole his phone almost every day to change it to something either sweet or horrible, ranging from "mydearest" to "JohnnyFiveDicks", so he switches it back to this over. and over. and over.  
> ElizaSky: p simple, her last name is schuyler but she is an innocent sweet child and alex changed it from "ElizaSchuy" to this, she thought it was cute and kept it
> 
> one more chapter to go!


	8. He Takes Their Hands

JLaurens: of course

JLaurens: whatever you need

ElizaSky: are you alright?

AdotHam: I don’t know

AdotHam: Maria was threatened by her abusive boyfriend to rape me

AdotHam: a boyfriend who had actually, forcibly raped her

AdotHam: and now I’m the one who decides whether to press charges

ElizaSky: Maybe you shouldn’t

ElizaSky: She needs help, not prison

JLaurens: fuck that

JLaurens: her being hurt doesn’t negate the fact that she hurt you

JLaurens: since when has a shitty life been an excuse for intentionally torturing someone

AdotHam: I don’t know

AdotHam: I just

AdotHam: I’ll get back to you.

* * *

 

He didn’t tell them that she reminded him of his mother. He didn’t tell them that as soon as she’d mentioned her boyfriend he’d know that wasn’t the full story, that he was more than just a dick because he’d seen that look in her eyes before, always watching for a tense face, a fist. He didn’t tell them because that shouldn’t matter; she raped him, that was that. Alex had spent every second he could trying to remind himself of that, but now that fragile framework of comfort had come crashing down. It wasn’t simple anymore; he was a victim, but so was she. He’d been raped, but so had she, and dammit, that shouldn’t change anything but it _did_ , because victims shouldn’t be prosecuted, they should be protected. How could Alex protect himself _and_ Maria?

 _Maybe_ , he thought suddenly, _I’m prosecuting the wrong Reynolds._

“Yes, Alex? What is it?”

“Mr. Washington, I—”

“ _George_ , for the last time, call me George.”

“ _Mr. Washington_ , I’ve made my decision. About pressing charges.” This snapped Washington out of his feigned annoyance, and he considered Alex seriously. “First, there is some information that significantly impacted my decision that you should be made aware of.” Any pretense of controlled curiosity or a blank expression was wiped from Washington’s face, and his fatherly concern lay bare.

“Maria Reynolds is in an incredibly abusive relationship, and in drugging me and… Raping me, she believed she was saving me from a worse fate with her boyfriend, who holds a grudge against me.” Unlike his typical behavior, Alex waited for a response before continuing.

Washington was overwhelmed; he’d known that fostering lead to some complicated and dangerous situations at times, but Alex having to make such a difficult decision with all these conflicting variables hadn’t crossed his mind.

“Okay,” he said, never one to mince words, and cleared his throat, “And what is your decision, considering that?”

“See, that’s where I’ll need to confer with the police and whatever lawyer we end up having, but I believe,” Alex paused as he pulled out a few neatly-folded pieces of printer paper from his pocket; as he unfolded, Washington was witness to Alex’s incredibly efficient thought process, as the papers were filled with different laws and by-laws, and Alex’s detailed notes of how they related to his case, “I believe that if Maria takes a plea, we could both be key witnesses against James Reynolds, her boyfriend. Well, husband _technically_ , but that’s legally void since she was fifteen and didn’t have parent permission.”

Instead of questioning Alex’s knowledge on the matter, Washington took it in stride and asked, “What charges will you bring to the police then?”

At this, Alex rubbed his neck, deep in thought. “Well, realistically I don’t have to bring up any specific charges, but—”

* * *

 

“—I would like to charge both James Reynolds and Maria Reynolds with rape, though I’m willing for Maria’s charge to be dropped to a misdemeanor if—”

“I think you’re a bit ahead of yourself, Mr. Hamilton.” The officer, Mr. Amaro, interrupted, and Alec had the decency to look chagrinned. “Let’s start from the beginning. You said the incident happened on the 23rd; can you tell me what happened?”

Alex sank minutely in the police station chair, his previous confidence shattered as he realized he would have to retell his story.

He looked to both Mr. and Mrs. Washington before beginning, “I went to a party at Thomas Jefferson’s house,” The detective wrote down the name, or at least Alex assumed, “with John Laurens and Elizabeth Schuyler, my  partners—”

"Partners?"

Alex sighed, “Romantic partners. We are in a polyamorous relationship. Will that be a problem?”

Mr. Amaro chuckled, “Nah, no problem; as long as it’s all consensual, it’s okay in my book.” Alex smiled at that.

“I was at the party, but I’ve never been much of a ‘party person’, so I was just sitting in the corner, drinking a light beer—I don’t drink that much, my dad was _un borracho_ , a drunk, so it was my first drink of the night. That’s when Maria Reynolds walked up…” Alex continued, telling everything up to waking up the next morning. The detective could tell Alex was overwhelmed and spoke up. “Thank you very much Alex. Now, did you,” he gestured to the Washingtons, “take him to the hospital after?”

“Yes,” George supplied, “He drove home that morning and his equilibrium was off; I took him to the hospital later that day, and they did a rape kit as well as a drug test and screening for STIs.”

“That will help a lot. Now, have you had any contact with Maria since then?”

This time Alex responded, “No, but two of my friends did…” and recited what Maria had told them. Leaving no room for a response, he continued, “That’s why I was hoping you could charge James Reynolds as well.” He finished meekly, staring at his lap despite his original confidence in the same desire.

After assuring Alex that the ADA would work everything out, they were ushered out of the police station and told to call if they had any more information.

“Alex, did you want to do anything? Go out for ice cream?” Mrs. Washington asked from the driver’s seat.

“Can we have John and Eliza over for dinner? I just… I really need to see them.”

“Of course, honey.” Little did he know, John and Eliza had called ahead saying they’d be at the house; Mrs. Washington figured that with everything going on, Alex could use at least one good surprise.

And what a surprise it was. For the second time in his first year in America, Alex was greeted by a party complete with a welcome banner and a (store bought, this time) cake. If tears came to his eyes, no one mentioned it; he was beckoned into the living room, where a pillow fort of epic proportions lay in wait.

He climbed in, conscious of the unstable walls as he settled down, for once happy to let his partners do the work of bringing in food and extra blankets and putting in a DVD before they, too, clambered in.

In the nest of blankets they created, Alex was cuddled in between Eliza and John, and if they were overheated in the July night, they said nothing and let Alex stay comfortable in the familiar warmth. A wide grin spread on his face as the Harry Potter logo popped up on the screen, and he wrapped his arms tighter around the people he loved, thankful that the storm had passed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Guys the first chapter of the sequel is up! also scream at me on tumblr to finish this when im not having a mental breakdown
> 
> yes im making a very very vague SVU crossover fight me  
> In all seriousness, this was quite the journey to write and im excited for the sequels (i may have overestimated the speed in which i would upload them, but the first should be uploaded this week)  
> Comments and criticisms are always welcome! Thank you very much for reading this


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